


Our Waters Run Red

by Toffle



Category: APH - Fandom, Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Pirate AU, TW: Blood, tw: death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toffle/pseuds/Toffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working as a waiter on luxury ship should have been a relatively easy job. But when the owners desire for success leads them into unguarded waters, the Saint Lucia is soon under attack and her passengers taken. </p><p>Lovino just wants to get his brother to safety, but to do that means cooperating with the very monster who kidnapped them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Are Bound

It had been all too real; the smell of copper that assaulted his nose confirmed this. The slick sounds of a blade through flesh emphasised it further. It was a strong smell, and not one he would ever forget he realised, as his side met with the rough wood floor. For a moment he saw stars, and then he saw boots, and the prints of blood left under them.  
He was pulled upwards, and dragged backwards until he found himself entwined amongst the other captured passengers. The rope around his hands, and ankles bit into him as they were shoved together. No one dared to move; heads were held low in fear, the braver men stuck out their chins in a gesture of defiance. It was futile Lovino thought, gazing up through the matted mess of hair that curtained his eyes. He could see the fallen…no, the slain. It was hopeless, they were trapped like rats.

A whimper to his left increased his tension further as he tilted his head towards the sound. His brother was alive, that was a relief, but with it came dread. The vivid picture in his mind of a sword through his brother’s gut was too much to think about. It would be too much to bear if it happened before his eyes. He had to protect Feliciano. Lovino prayed and the ropes around his wrists cut deeper in response.  
He wondered how much time had passed now? The burning remains of their ship in the distance offered no help as it sunk further into the ocean. The screams had stopped. It wasn't a comfort. His brother’s soft cowering sounds had yet to subside either. Perhaps it had been an hour, maybe two… How fast were ships expected to burn? He shifted slightly, knee bumping against the others; he had Feliciano's attention from that, and could only silently offer the comfort of that touch as their capturers surrounded them.

There was talk, murmurs as the click of boots across the stained floor grew closer. The circle of would-be guards parted and made way for their Captain. He wasn't tall by any means, but he carried his weight across his shoulders, and his presence alone displayed his power. No threats were needed for emphasis. Feliciano shrunk beside him and all Lovino could do was swear softly under his breath, glaring up at the man that had so brutally murdered hundreds.  
He watched as that man's eyes, void of compassion, swept across the small crowd his crew had collected. It was a slow process. Perhaps he was simply taking his time in picking out his next victims, Lovino thought bitterly. His stomach dropped with how true that thought turned out to be, listening as several people from the back were released, their pleas turning to wails as they were thrown over-board… or worse. He pressed closer to his brother, struggling in his attempt to unbind his own ropes.

Every movement froze as a boot came into focus directly in front of his leg. He didn't dare to look up. Unfortunately he didn't have to. The figure bent at the knees, and a hand forced his chin up to lock with the cold green eyes of the Captain. Terror had Lovino's spine stone stiff, but his thoughts ran wild as he glared back against the calculating gaze. When the man smirked, Lovino's narrowed his eyes and his body moved on a sudden violent impulse. It was fast, and it was a mistake he quickly regretted making, but the pain as his head collided against Captains face was satisfying beyond belief. The victory was short lived as a blow to his gut took the wind from him, doubling him over to gasp for air.

  
“Brother…” The soft, yet horrified squeak met his ears and he winced. His brother had instantly leant down to him; unable to help with his own arms bound, and unable to restrain himself from vocalising his worry. Lovino hissed out his words rapidly, demanding his brothers silence. “Sit up and keep quiet.” He didn’t need the younger man getting into trouble too, but it was not to be, as the Captain hummed and turned his attention to the cowering man that was Feliciano.  
Titling the boys chin up, he eyed him over, comparing him next to his violent other half. “Brothers?”

Spanish. They looked to each other, one of fear, and one of fury. The pirate laughed to himself. He stood up and pulled the younger brother up with him by the collar. “Oi, doesn’t he look cute?” He angled Feliciano towards the crew and then the captured. “Not at all like the child here that spits his words and hisses like a frightened cat.”  
The crew laughed and the captured looked away. What could they do? They had no power here. They muttered under their breaths: “The poor boy,” and “At least it’s not me,”. Those words reached Lovino's ears and dispelled the fears for his brother’s life, surpassing them with rage.

“Take your hands from him, bastard!”

The Captain raised an eyebrow, his expression anything but impressed as he watched his crew mate shove the angry boy back down violently. Lovino did not relent; kicking the man as his balance was thrown off, not allowing his voice to be silenced. The Captain ignored him, until his crew mate had made certain the brash Italian was gagged and bound tighter. The people around Lovino took no action. They wouldn’t would they… They were not the navy. They were 'their' precious cargo, travellers aboard the St. Lucia, with little to no experience in stupid bravery, or heroics. Their once strong crew had only served to help stain the ocean red.

Lovino writhed against the ropes, biting down hard on the fabric now stuffed in his mouth. If looks could kill, his eyes promised the murder of the young Captain if one hair on his brother’s head was touched. The Captain watched him dully, and then tilted Feliciano's head back by his hair. Leaning in close to his ear, the Spaniard spoke. “What is your name, boy?”  
He watched Feliciano panic, the boys eyes darting back and forth as the quieter one looked to his brother for help, and to the pirate out of fear. Before he could open his mouth to utter a word, Lovino yelled at him through his gag shaking his head. _Say nothing you idiot!_

The captain spun Feliciano around, making him unable to look at his brother. “You’ll do best to answer me. If your brother is such a distraction, then I will have him removed. Or perhaps you don't understand me?”

He felt the boy tense and try to shake his head. “N-no. You don’t need to…”

“Oh! This makes things easier!" Lovino flinched at the false joy in the man's words. "What is your name? I won’t ask again.”

His voice carried a promise that caused a shudder to ripple through Feliciano's body. He took a steadying breath, hands opening and closing with anxiety, and wished he could just take a glance at his brother.

“I…My name is…” He paused to swallow down a noise of fear, hearing muffled curses behind him. “Feliciano…Vargas.”

The Captain smiled, suddenly pleasant and relaxed. He released Feliciano's hair, and draped his arm over the shorter man’s shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard, was it Vargas? The world didn’t end from opening your mouth.” He laughed, mocking them all once again. “Since your tongue has loosened, tell us Feliciano Vargas, a boy who understands _our_ language so very well. What was your place upon that burning wreck you once called a ship?”

Feliciano whimpered, sinking under the intimidating weight on his shoulders. He tilted his head, glancing about nervously for the answer to come to his tongue, casting his gaze to the floor as he felt the Captains eyes bore into his skull. “The chef… I cooked for the passengers.”

Murmurs came from the crew. They sounded excited, pleased, if the older Italian could judge the responses well enough. The expression on the Captains face gave nothing away, dark matted curls bobbing as the man looked up to the sky in thought for a brief moment. “Take him,” he called, passing him over to a crew member. “Feliciano Vargas, we are short of a cook. You would be wise to take up the offer.”

Laughing, he turned away as they led their new cook away from his brother; a brother now furiously trying to fray the Captains last nerve as he cursed the sky blue through the filthy rag, and attempted to stand despite his position. He ignored the boy for now, stepping back to address the remaining captives. Their gazes were varied, unsure whether to look at him or away from him in fear.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” he began, a snide tone shining through the false politeness. “I am Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, welcome aboard the Saint Raphael. I cannot say it has been a pleasure, as we are now short a few bodies of our crew.” He shook his head and gave a cold smile, gazing them over once more. “However, there is just not room for you all.”

Lovino paled, looking towards the direction Feliciano had been hauled off in as the words filtered through his mind. Of the previous passengers of the Saint Lucia, those who understood the Spaniards words fell into a panic. It rippled across them and those who had not understood the language, well, they would understand soon enough. The Captain stepped away, allowing his crew to rid them of some unnecessary weight. The first of the screams came, but they were silenced quickly, followed by the sound of liquid hitting the deck; then followed the rest.

With a grunt Lovino was yanked to his feet by a member of the crew. He could see the blood dripping from the man’s cutlass. He expected the worst when the man pulled him close by the throat. Whatever actions the man may have been about to take were stopped short as the Captain passed him by; a quick order was passed to him and the Italian found himself being dragged away from the crowd and shoved roughly against the wood of the mast. No amount of trying to break free, or muffled cursing prevented him from being securely tied in place. The ropes around his hands were cut just so they could be replaced, tying him against the wood securely. Lovino struggled, but it proved futile and brought only pain as his arms twisted at an uncomfortable angle, the ropes burned into the sores on his wrists.

He watched on helplessly as the Captains crew chose people at random to serve their 'needs', or tossed them overboard. Looking away could not block out the screams and the pleas, nor the sounds of the women begging them not to… No, Lovino kept his eyes firmly shut. There was no mercy here, not unless you had a use, this was evident enough, though could it really be called mercy? Lovino did not think so. He tried to keep his thoughts focused on his brother, to ignore the horror before him. They wanted him as a cook so Feliciano would be alright for now; he was an excellent chef, and an even better coward, he'd be good as gold. His breath caught in his throat, the smell of fresh blood was too potent to breathe steadily. Feliciano would be alright, he’d do as they said, he was good like that, good at taking orders and running away when things got tough. He’d survive.  
  


\---  
  


Lovino couldn't think, couldn't focus. The sun was so bright and so very, very hot. He was thirsty, and a bitter smile graced his cracked lips as the knowledge that they were surrounded by water returned to mock him. It had been a few days surely? He had stood there tied to the ships mast for so long, watching as most of the blood was washed away, as used women were then cast aside and thrown over. Always in front of his eyes. He couldn't count how many people he had watched die, couldn't fathom the amount, but never Feliciano, never his brother; the only comfort in the torturous heat was to know he was still alive.

His head lolled to the side; there was no shade to hide from the sun, no water to quench the painful desperate thirst. There was water on the ship, he knew that much, had seen the crew drink their fill then carry on with their work. Lovino decided it was worse that they were not purposely parading it in front of him; it would have been less cruel to know it was intentional. His vision swam and a spectrum of colours danced across his eyelids. He wondered if he’d gone blind just before his legs gave out from under him, causing the rope to bite deeper into his wrists. He would have cried out if not for succumbing to dehydration, mind falling into darkness. How long had it been since someone had acknowledged him? He couldn't remember.

A harsh collision to his face brought him back, and left him gasping for air, choking on cold salt water blocking his nose and mouth. He managed a ragged breath and looked up to see a man holding a bucket with a satisfied grin, their Captain -Fernández?Carriedo?- stood beside him. The Spaniard looked happy with himself. Lovino wanted to tear the smile from his face but his arms were numb and useless where they were held.

The Captain walked forward and Lovino flinched as a hand came near his head. He wanted to kick himself for the display of weakness, but not as much as he wanted to kick the Captain for his smug expression. The gag was removed from his mouth, but his jaw was held tight. “I will talk, and you will answer.” The hold tightened with the order. “Deviate from this and there will be consequences. Understood?”

He released his jaw, and Lovino spat the sea water at him in response. “Like hell, bastard,” his voice was dry and broken, but the passion was still there, swiftly replaced with a pained cry from a blow to his jaw. His head snapped to the side. It was quickly followed in succession with another blast of cold salt water, that snatched his breath away.

“Are we understood, Vargas brother.” It wasn't a question. The Captains voice was like ice as he stepped back into view. Lovino leant his head back against the mast and glared, biting out a disgusted agreement. The Captain looked pleased, not bothering to hide the condescension and self-satisfaction from his expression. “Your name?”

His eyes narrowed, burning from the sun and the salt. “Vargas.”

The Spaniards expression turned bored and cold. “This is not a game. The more difficult you make this for me, the more difficult I will make the life of your precious baby brother. You will answer me.”  
  
“Lovino, you ass.” His voice cracked from the water still lodged in his lungs, but he kept his head held high. “Lovino Vargas. What's it to you?”

The Captain chuckled. “Oi, such a bad mouth isn’t cute. You should be more like your brother, Lovino Vargas, our Feliciano is so good at taking instruction.”  
  
“He’s not your anything,” Lovino tugged at his binds. They stung were they stuck to his skin. The Captain clicked his tongue, scolding Lovino for getting himself in such a state, but there was no sympathy in the words. “What was your place upon that boat Lovino?”

He settled slightly, unsure what purpose the question would serve. “Does someone like you know French? 'Maitre d’hotel', I managed the food service." The Captains laughter towards his response made his anger boil. “Got something to say to that? Spit it out.”  
  
The laughter subsided as he looked over the Italians attire. The Captain tugged at Lovino's clothing and cast him a judgemental look. “ _You_ held such a position? I’m surprised they let you out into the public with a mouth like that. It’s suited for much filthier things.”  
  
Lovino opened his mouth to retort, grateful for his sunburnt skin hiding the scandalised colouring across his cheeks. “That’s enough! What have you kept me here for? What is so important the bastard Captain wishes to speak with me?” He knows he crossed a line, he constantly crosses them, but it was fine wasn’t it, as long as it kept the attention focused away from his brother.

The Captain gave a derisive snort and beckoned for his crew mate to follow. He paused briefly to call back over his shoulder to the Italian. “Last a few more days and I might consider untying you. You can thank me by cleaning the deck.” He’s gone before the other can reply.   
  
Lovino's head dropped and exhaustion washed over him; the effort to hold himself tall entirely drained. Once again he was left alone with the sun as company, and not a drop of water in sight. A few more days seemed like a mountain under the suns glare, but maybe it would work out. If he could work, Lovino thought, the maybe he could protect his brother. Just a few more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aim of this story was to create something darker than what I had previously seen in other AU's. In the pirating world, an unfocused Captain or crew would damn the ship, and disrespect was met with warning and punishment. More often than not a pirates actions would be something that benefited the crew and their supplies. If they held too many captives they would either sell, or dispose of them at their convenience. 
> 
> In history, many members of a crew were people who had left the navy, or had no other place to go. Most commonly the crew would be formed of captured victims from ship raids, who were then forced to work, or have an unpleasant end if they refused. 
> 
> I wanted to create a story that didn't romanticise the piratical lifestyle, and openly displayed that lives were quite often disposed of when they proved more trouble than use.
> 
> Spain is often noted in history for its violence, along side the British and French empires. Within Hetalia itself, it is often noted that Spain was a serious person when the occasion called for it. And the South Italy was a hard worker when he wished to be. It's noted that Spain does not always have a head full of air, and the South Italy does not always run his mouth or cower away. I wanted to express that here as best as I was able to, through a human perspective, as opposed to a countries personification. 
> 
> If there's any comments or constructive criticism, it would be greatly appreciated.


	2. Limitations

A few more days could not have come soon enough for Lovino. It was a realisation that came with darkness, and a gradual building of pain across his body as he shifted in position. Lovino could feel the burn along his skin, and frowning did not help the tightness around his face, and oddly, the weight.

Tilting his head the side, the weight shifted, and fell. It left behind a cool absence across his forehead and prompted him to try and open his eyes. He was met with a wet rag, and darkness not found from the night sky. Further investigation found him horizontal, and wooden panels surrounded him. He was under the deck. When had he been moved inside?

From each turn of his head, Lovino could see no one else inside the cramped area, but it was becoming clear that this was, at best, a make shift infirmary. There were bandages, clean and bloodied, and utensils with uses Lovino did not wish to think too hard on.

Feeling somewhat safe alone in the dark, Lovino tried to sit up, but the world swayed and his body protested. He collapsed back with a soft thud and remained staring upwards until his vision cleared. He was thirsty, so thirsty, but no amount of desire to move could supersede the need to stay still, when exhaustion still held him firmly in grasp.

 

–--

 

When Lovino woke next, it was to the tugging of his arm and the sound of boots stomping back and forth close by. A man came into vision, blurry until Lovino became more aware of his self and his surroundings.

His arm was held out, and a dull throb ached across the length of it. The pain continued around his shoulders, aching in ways that couldn't be ignored. When his arm was roughly tugged again, wincing brought pain to the tightness of the skin around his face, and the reminder that sunburn was in fact quite dangerous. Lovino hissed out a pained noise, and the pulling on his arm paused for a moment. He startled when the man's face came into view.

'Ah, so you do live then, can't say it's about time.'

The man looked older than himself, a strong jaw and wicked grin. Perhaps it was the low lighting, or the lack of full coherency that made Lovino think he resembled a shark. He hoped he didn't resemble them in more than just looks. At attempting to reply, Lovino was quickly cut off.  
  
'There will be time for that later boy, you wont have much of a voice after that spectacle.' He laughed. Lovino remained confused, frowning, he tried asking what he meant by that. His voice was hoarse and it felt like he had swallowed the equivalent of blades. He could only cough.

The man stepped away and returned just as quick, hauling Lovino upwards enough to shove a flask at his mouth to drink. If water could truly be turned to wine, then Lovino thought he finally understood the religious texts. Nothing he had drunk before could compare to this moment. He choked in his haste and the flask was pulled away.

'I'm not one to deny a man a drink in barred waters, but drinking it is the idea, don't waste it in your lungs." The man scolded him, and pushed him back down to lay. Lovino winced, shoulder pain not soon forgotten. He laid still for a moment, taking slow deep breaths as he watched the man return to pulling at his arm. He could see now the bandages that were being wound around them tightly in place. Wounds from the ropes surely, he thought.

Lovino's Spanish was childish at best, Feliciano had always been more gifted at that, fluent, conversational. Lovino could understand some basic phrases, grammar was hit and miss, but it wasn't entirely difficult to grasp. Lovino had picked up many things in the budding culinary world, mostly French, but travelling with the Saint Lucia had brought many opportunities to put them into practice. He never expected he'd be using it for survival, not in their area of the ocean. Oh how he had been wrong.

'Why am I here?' He started, keeping to simple questions. Though the implication leant more towards his being alive.

As simple as asking questions could be, answers were often trickier to understand, and Lovino had to concentrate with difficulty as the man replied. 'Captain has uses for you. Wasn't going to leave you out there to cook any longer than was ordered.'  
  
'Uses?' Lovino asked.

'Uses. There's a lovely deck up there with your name on it to scrub boy,' the man laughed, tying off the end of the bandage. ''Course there's no work for dead men, so you're in my care till you can stand at least. Lost half your guts to the floor, among _other things_. Nasty business. Sun's a dangerous thing.'

It took a moment, translating it over his head. It did nothing to soothe him as he put some pieces together. He was alive, for work. Nothing sounded less thrilling than being conscripted into a pirate crew. Lovino closed his eyes, and moved his hand over his face in distress. The action was quickly regretted as his skin all but screamed in protest. It was sore, cracked, and dry. Lovino could only image the angry red that accompanied the pain.

'How long?' Lovino asked, turning to look back at what he hoped was a man with legitimate medical knowledge. He pointed to the deck above. 'How long was I up there?'

The man hummed, and shrugged. ''Bout five days? Six? You're a stubborn one, held out quite a while. Nasty punishment if you ask me. And you didn't ask me, if any one asks you.'

Nod and agree, Lovino thought, not quite certain of everything that had been said. He looked away and thought back to his time on deck, almost a week, enough to make him dangerously ill, but not enough to seal his death. It was cruel, and drawn out. That bastard Fernández was too much. Lovino felt like the boat itself had hit him. A glance down at himself told Lovino all he needed to know about the state of himself. The clothes were not his, they were clean mostly, and too big. It was with a disgusted shudder that he concluded they had belonged to a former Saint Lucia passenger. At least they weren't soiled.

Lovino realised that there would be no seeking out Feliciano that day, but there was also no wrong in recovery. His brother would understand, even if Lovino felt worse for it. If he could move and walk, then he could find the galley. He could get to Feliciano and they could find a way off of this godforsaken ship. It was a weak plan, but a plan nonetheless, and Lovino was nothing if not determined.

He hardly noticed as the sound of footsteps faded off and the door thumped shut. Still exhausted, Lovino slipped back into sleep, with plans for the future making his thoughts a little less hopeless.

 

–--

 

A few days later found Lovino hydrated and somewhat well fed. There were meals, small ones, and no doubt they came from the stock stolen from Feliciano's stores on their sunken ship. Lovino swallowed it in distaste, it was basic, it lacked everything Lovino had come to associate with food. Whilst it hurt, it also brought with it a sense of smug victory. Feliciano was not happy, they were being fed the most basic of meals whilst his brother had no heart to cook. Though there was always the possibility they were rationing the supplies, Lovino opted to entertain the former idea for a moment longer. These people did not deserve Feliciano.

A noise to his left, and Lovino was once again distinctly aware he was never alone for too long in this place. The door creaked open, and the man who had kept him alive stomped in, carrying a bundle under one arm, and a drink in the other. Lovino couldn't decide if should feel gratitude or contempt towards him.

He made his way over and dumped the bundle onto Lovino's legs, leaving him little time to rescue his plate. 'What is this?'

'A bed,' The man finished the mug in his hand and left it on the side. He laughed to himself and gestured around Lovino's head mockingly. 'A hat too. Suit'd slim boy like you. Can't say it's my taste, but it'll keep the sun of your head. Hah!'

Lovino stared at him, then at the pile on his lap. Untangling it found a hammock, with stains Lovino did not wish to question, and a wide floral hat. This was mockery wasn't it? How much more of the dead's former possessions would he wear? He let the jab at his body go ignored for the sake of more important matters.

'A hammock. Where am I sleeping?' He glanced towards the door. He'd be leaving this make shift infirmary it appeared.

'Follow the corridor on the right, find an unused space,' the man replied, looking Lovino up and down. 'You're fit to work. Don't need you taking up space in here. When you're done, go straight up to the deck.' He gestured up at the ceiling for emphasis, Lovino followed the movement.

'Fit for work... I can move around this ship?'  
  
'You can follow your orders,' the man replied, narrowing his eyes. 'Obey the Captain, Vargas. It will be in your best interest.'

Lovino swallowed, as memories of those cold eyes became vivid for a moment. There were no empty threats on this ship, and Lovino felt he had already used up what little luck he had had. If he kept his head down, kept out of focus... How cowardly. Lovino had no wishes to reacquaint himself with the ships mast, or earn worse. If he was a braver man, the idea of revenge would have been desirable. That was not his priority when his brother was somewhere nearby.

He moved off the cot, and looked up at the other, taking in his height properly for the first time. The man really was quite tall, and no amount of rest had dispelled the idea that he resembled a shark. That was no hallucination inspired idea. It was the scars around his throat, and the curve of his mouth that did it. Lovino stepped aside and tried to ignore the urge to shrink. He needed to ask something before he fled that steady gaze.

'Before...I asked why I was here,' he started, making himself stand a little taller whilst he picked out the right words to say. 'Why was I not left to die? My brother, you took him. You did not need me.'

The minor confidence gain soon fled when the man's smile widened, all teeth and unnervingly no malice. He laughed loudly, the sound bubbling up from his gut and filling the room. Lovino resisted the urge to bolt, or yell at him.

'The Captain takes entertainment in strange places, boy.' He snatched the hat from Lovino's hands and shoved it down onto his head. 'And you are less threat than a field mouse. It is amusing, no? We'll work you hard, and your pretty hands will be calloused yet. You will find a man on deck, he is named Fierro. He has work work for you.'

Lovino stumbled back pushing hand from his head. It took some force. He glared up under the hats brim, failing to see the humour in the situation. The man showed no visible offence, and it pissed Lovino off further, but he backed down. This person was not his enemy, not yet. He lifted a still bandaged arm, and gestured to it, then to the ceiling. 'Fernández, Fierro... What's your name? You are a physician...?' _I hope._

The man nodded silently, taking Lovino's arm before he could pull away. 'My name is Ibai, and you are in good fortune, Vargas. Very good fortune indeed.' Patting a hand firmly over Lovino's arm, he herded him to the door. Lovino winced at the impact against his back as he was shoved outside. 'Now go. You are slacking off where others are working hard.'

The door slammed shut behind him and Lovino stood still in the corridor. Outside the small room, it was starting to feel like he had been pushed into shark infested waters. For how cramped it was, it still felt too open compared to the 'security' of moments ago. He took a breath, and made his way to the right. It was the correct direction, he remembered, moving along quietly, not wanting to make a sound.

He could hear footsteps and voices, and the sounds of working that all came from above his head, and the other rooms nearby. Noise travelled far, even in Ibai's room Lovino had heard plenty. It wasn't something he was unused to, he had worked for years on smaller ships than this. But they had never felt hostile and so foreign.

Lovino halted as he found the steps into the largest lower deck, stepping inside when he heard people approaching. He wanted nothing more than to avoid people for as long as was possible. It wasn't meant to be with several eyes turning on him the moment he entered. Lovino slowed his movements, and shuffled as fair a distance away as he could manage from the men staring him down.  
  
He hated the atmosphere that was suddenly clawing at him, and quickly found somewhere to dump his hammock. It didn't occur to him to remember that the hat on his head was suited more for a wealthy lady, than for a man resembling that of a burnt piece of meat. Lovino left the area just as hastily as he had entered it, ignoring the muttering and jeers that were surely centred around him.

The top deck was a little harder to find, Lovino discovered, as he walked through pathways to locate the stairs upwards. It took a few wrong turns, and keeping his head down did nothing for his sense of direction. More than once he tried to use this excuse of being lost to find the galley, but large men glared down at him and informed him of his wrong location in less than friendly ways.

He was back under the sun within a few minutes and Lovino shut his eyes tight against the sudden onslaught of light. The switch from darkness to daylight was never a pleasant one. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked around at the masses of people working, and thankfully saw no sign of their Captain. There were so many men, how were they short on hands?

Lovino moved out of the way for someone coming through, and backed up against some barrels looking around for a place to go. Getting underfoot of everyone would not help his cause to stay low. He moved away, stepped over ropes, and around boxes until he found someone who didn't seem busy enough to possibly bite off his head. The man looked less than impressed.

'Oi, I'm looking for Fierro?' Lovino asked just loud enough to be heard above the noise, aware that people were watching him. The crew member stared up at him, before standing up and looking across the busy deck. Lovino shrunk back. Why was everyone so intimidatingly built, it was terrifying. The man pointed to a figure on the opposite side of the ship.

'You'll find him there.'

Lovino nodded and followed the direction, exiting the area in hurry. He ducked under ropes and avoided the men carrying heavy planks of wood. It looked like they were repairing some damages. He ignored them, taking care not trip over as he made his way across. He was hurt enough and did not need added injuries.

Reaching the far end Lovino stopped another crew member, asking them for Fierro, a little more confidently this time he liked to think. This man too, looked around in confusion, before locking eyes with someone. 'Over there.'

Following his gaze, Lovino saw people far off. He had just walked past there, he was sure. Turning away, the man went back to work, leaving the Italian to make his way back to centre of the deck. On the third try Lovino caught on.

They were mocking him. It was a wild goose chase. The bastard probably didn't exist in the first place. Lovino cursed, kicking a sack in a frustration. Jeers met him from onlookers and Lovino stalked off, wanting to hit someone. If he didn't have to be out here in the heat, then he wouldn't. He made his way back to the stairs, surely putting the grim hammock up would be less of an embarrassment.

His journey stopped short at the stairs, as he moved aside for a man climbing up them. He was shorter than Lovino, and looked much older too. As he stepped aside, the man snapped his head to face him and Lovino could not look away.

'You're that mouthy runt who picked a fight with the Captain." He leant closer into Lovino's personal space and Lovino moved away out of habit as the man took steps closer to bridge the distance. 'Yeah, I'm right, you're Ibai's boy alright. Look at that face.'

'Are you finished?' Lovino bit the words out as he tried to keep his distance. 'Who the hell are you?'

'Hah! There's the mouth. Come with me, I got work for you.'

Lovino watched him walk away, hurriedly following after when the man yelled back at him to hurry it up. He caught up quickly, and fell into pace behind him. 'Fierro?'

'That's what some would call me, yes.'

So he did exist, Lovino thought, eyeing the other men with an accusatory stare. He just hadn't been on deck in the first place. Stopping his bitter thoughts, Lovino came to a halt when Fierro stopped in front of him, pulling out things from under a tied down pile. When he turned around, a bucket and brush were shoved into Lovino's arms.

'Your job is straight from the Captain. Really simple,' Fierro explained, mockingly slow, adding a rope into the pile. 'Fill that up with water, and scrub these old boards 'til they're no longer copper. Understand?'

Lovino nodded, clean the deck, exactly like the bastard Captain had said the first time. It took a few seconds for it to click that copper was referring to the wash of blood that stained the floor where only days earlier over thirty captive people were tied. Lovino put a hand to his throat remembering what he had witnessed, and swallowed the lump that had formed.

Fierro shoved him the right direction, with complaints of how they didn't have all day. Lovino was to report back to him once he had finished, though the way Fierro saw it, the Italian may as well do the entire upper deck until the sun set. There wasn't much of the day left as it stood.

Lovino felt his stomach turn as he looked down at the reddened boards. So many people had died here, he could have been one of them. Forcing that thought aside, Lovino sat against a crate, and tied a rope around the buckets handle, hoping it was secure enough. He gave himself a derisive laugh, as he thought about how far he had fallen. From upper-class staff on a 'luxury' passenger ship, to a swab. It was ridiculous. Passenger ships were not a common thing outside of transport and immigration, but the owner of the Saint Lucia ship -an ambitious Frenchman- had tried to reach out and broaden his horizons, as it were, within the wealthier community.

They were supposed to be short voyages around the coast, not too far out to sea, not without an escort ship. Such a simple idea; sail some pretty young women, and their rich husbands, and fathers around the outer coastal lines. Serve them teas and fine wines, always lunch, and then dinner. Then return to port. A glorified ferry ride was all that it had been. But the owner had been pushing to further their reach, to take their small clientèle above and beyond what they were paying for, make it worth their money.

It wasn't Lovino's business. He served the food, and managed the catering alongside of his brother. They were paid and it was all very simple. It had been a grand idea at the time, to get involved with something so unique, and unexplored. They could make a name for themselves if this took off and gained popularity. They were in it for the long haul, and Vargas would surely become a sought after name along the coastal areas. Good food and the rising popularity of local cuisine were always a foot in the door of a wealthy home, or cause for an audience with an important member of society.

It had been going so well. If only that idiot had reined in his money grubbing ways, and had stuck to safe waters where the navies were stationed. This wouldn't have happened. Not to them. Lovino breathed out slowly, and tried not to over think the fact his life was highly likely to be over forever. If it didn't end tomorrow, that was.

He swung the bucket over the side of the ship to draw up the water, and pulled it back up by the rope. Getting to his knees he sucked up what was left of his pride and began to scrub at the floor. It was an effort not to throw up as the red bubbled up in the water that lifted it from the boards. Lovino could only endure.

 

–--

 

The sun had set perhaps an hour or two ago, and Lovino had reached the other side of the ship per Fierro's instruction. His arms felt like dead weights, and the bandages around his hands and wrists were drenched through. His shoulders ached, and his back and knees were no better. Lovino cursed the man that invented ships of this size. More so than that he cursed the ship in its entirety. Nothing would make his night more pleasurable than to see it sink.

He let out a frustrated breath and threw the brush to the floor. Shuffling backwards until his shoulders hit the rail, Lovino stretched out his legs across the floor. There was nobody walking here for the moment. It was nice, a brief moment of peace even if the deck was still active and loud. Though the sounds had shifted from a chorus of work, to one of drunken chatter as wine and ale were passed around. Clearly they were not through with the Saint Lucia's cargo just yet.

Pulling himself up from the floor, Lovino stretched out, and grimaced at the cracking sounds that descended down his spine in quick succession. He picked up the bucket and threw the contents back into the ocean, lowering it back down to pull it up filled with clean water. He used it to scrub at his hands and clean them as best as he could, before throwing the rest of the water back overboard.

Turning his back on the ocean, Lovino wandered over to where he had last seen Fierro, wondering if that was all there was for him to do. He took notice of the men that were filing away below deck. Some were returning with food to eat outside, and some just didn't return. _Eating in the quarters below most likely._

When he found Fierro, he was amongst other men enjoying a heated discussion about something Lovino could not understand. He cleared his throat and called the man's name, glowering when several of the men stopped to stare at him. Fierro leant back.

'What is it?'

'Is this everything now?'

Fierro hummed in agreement, and pointed off to where he had taken Lovino earlier. 'Store your tools, make sure they're secure. You may as well head down to eat before it's all gone.'

Food at last, Lovino thought, his stomach empty since the afternoon. The idea of a meal was a welcome one, bland though it was. Lovino flicked his wrist in the direction of the store, and excused himself. Finally, a moment to reach the galley, he could see Feliciano, know he was safe at least. Lovino chided himself as he started thinking even the whiny high pitched complaints of his brother would be music to his ears at this point. He'd never say that out loud.

Stepping around a barrel, Lovino headed towards the pile he had received the bucket from, detouring slightly to find someone nearby to ask which hallway lead to the galley his brother worked in. It was one of the largest ships Lovino had been on, and not every ship was identical. He was about to call out to a man on the stairs, when a voice calling his name cut through the air.

'Vargas~!'

The call came loudly from the helm of the ship and froze Lovino in his tracks. Leaning over the rail, with a smile too bright to be genuine, stood Captain Antonio Fernández Carriedo. The sight simultaneously made Lovino's blood run cold, and boil. How he hated the man who had brought them here, and how he hated the sudden jabs of fear that he had caused to settle in his stomach.

The Captain tilted his head in the direction of the men moving below. 'Where do you think you are off to this evening, Lovino Vargas?'

'Are you denying me food now?' Lovino spat, hiding no traces of disgust from his voice. It was impossible, this man deserved nothing but contempt, how could he rein in his temper.

Captain Fernández laughed again, as though he had heard the most amusing thing yet this evening. 'No, no, do not be silly Lovino, I would not deny a waiter his meal.' He flicked his wrist, gesturing to Lovino. 'However, you will not be joining them below, someone will 'serve' you. Quite the refreshing change, don't you think?'

Lovino stiffened, defensive. 'Why?'

'What would be the best way to put this?' The Captain hummed, taking amusement in Lovino's stiff posture. 'You do not care to eat with my men, you wish simply to see our dear Feliciano. Am I wrong? Then you will _earn_ it. Until then, you will remain away from the galley. I hope that is understood, Lovi?'

The words ticked over in Lovino's head slow to translate, and in one sharp motion, Lovino threw the empty bucket up at the railing. It hit the wood with violent crack, just missing his intended target. The Spaniard did not flinch. He simply smiled, and walked away leaving Lovino to curse himself hoarse. The tension left Lovino's shoulders, and in its place weighed heavy defeat.

He was being toyed with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an awful author who hasn't updated this in forever. However I will be updating this from now on, as I suddenly know where I'm going with this. I've had to re-research everything I know about piracy, and the lives of chefs and staff in the 1700's but it's been fun.
> 
> I want to note that Lovi and Feli are around 23 years old at this point in life, despite the fact I keep using the word 'boy'. A lot of the characters in this are a fair bit older, and often look down at younger men for their inexperience. 
> 
> Given Lovino's official job title and the time period, it's a slight clue to where and how the Vargas brothers grew up. Though that's something explored in a future chapter. That aside, I hope this was enjoyable. I've also re-edited the 1st chapter and changed some grammar and dialogue here and there.


End file.
